


Trèville's Garrison for Stray Puppies

by sempervera



Series: Everyone knows that a god protects drunkards and lovers, A Musketeers collection. [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, I Blame Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempervera/pseuds/sempervera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by <a href="http://unfriendlyblackandhot.tumblr.com/post/78571100453/sempervera-raouldehadleyfraser">unfriendlyblackandhot</a>'s post on tumblr:<br/>"I just have this image in my head of Captain Treville asks who D’artagnan is and one of the musketeers going “He came here to kill Athos but he didn’t so now we all hang out together.” and the captain just rolling with it like yeah whatever you can stay but im gonna treat you like you work for me even though you technically dont"</p><p>Which is pretty much what this is. With a special appearance of Athos's cat, which is so canon in my head, just to make it all the more idiotic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trèville's Garrison for Stray Puppies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JEAikman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/gifts).



> Ooook, so...  
> Well, I don't have any good excuse for this, except that it was fun to write.  
> This goes out for JEAikman, fellow musketeerette in this amazing fandom, and unfriendlyblackandhot, whose nickname here I don't know, for the inspiration to write this bunch of idiocies.  
> Ok, I'll leave you to it, hope you'll enjoy it.  
> Cheers!

When he woke up in his rooms that morning, Trèville did so with a bad feeling in his stomach. Not the same feeling he felt when Maria de Medici tried to seize power, nothing remotely close to that impeding sense of doom, no. It was something different, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He gave up trying to figure it out, in his line of work one usually didn’t need to wait much to link such a feeling to a factual occurrence. He started getting ready to get to the garrison, already knowing he would regret not staying in bed for the rest of his life.

Once he finished his breakfast, Trèville called for his horse and headed towards the garrison. He had just passed Athos’s lodgings when his horse started getting skittish, snarling and trying to get out of his rider’s control. Trèville immediately started calming the horse while at the same time searching the busy street to understand what was bothering the animal. After a couple of minutes he had almost gave up, it had probably been a bug or something, when he finally got a glimpse of something quick and black moving around the horse’s legs. Was that?

He dismounted to make sure it was what he thought it was, but the little animal dashed away with an agility that confirmed Trèville’s suspicions.

Athos’s damn cat. The animal had started going around the garrison, through the kitchens, helped by old Serge’s constant feeding, laying on the armory’s tables, and playing with everything he could put his paws on. Once, Trèville had found him half soaked in ink, walking all over his work desk, leaving marks on every single piece of paper. It had took him an entire afternoon to clean up all the mess the animal had made and, from the Cardinal’s reply late that evening (‘Impressive sigil, Captain, should I expect your soldiers to wear furry ears and tails from now on?) he hadn’t done a perfect job.

When he actually told Athos about the cat, the man had looked at him like he was insane, denying any affiliation with the animal. Trèville had simply sighed and let it go, hoping the feline would eventually get tired and ran away. It had been two months now, and the damn animal would still roam the garrison, now welcomed by every single one of those idiots of his soldiers and particularly liked by Aramis. Honestly, Trèville thought the cat had found a kindred spirit in the bane of his existence, which was also known as Aramis himself.

Sometimes Trèville wondered how did he end up from commanding the garrison of one of the most celebrated companies of Paris, to handle it as one would handle a group of turbulent children. Nevertheless, he actually liked it, the garrison was the closest thing to a family many of the men had, and Trèville worked to make sure it stayed that way: loyal and constant. He considered every single one of his soldiers as something close to sons, to which he provided command, guidance and, when needed, reprimand.

Which was why, when his horse slowly entered the garrison, Trèville’s facial expression was the same exact one a father would have when his three most turbulent boys presented him with a stray puppy, taken from the streets.

Who the hell was the boy training with Aramis in the courtyard?

The sole fact that there was Aramis involved made the Captain’s head start to hurt; but when he realized that Athos and Porthos were part of the group as well, he just wanted to turn back his horse and head back to his bed. Of course it would be the three of them, it was _always_ the three of them.

Trèville had survived countless battles, duels, assassinations attempts and such, which always made him think he would pass away in some sort of violent manner, but if he would ever die of heart attack, he was sure it would have something to do with those three.

He let out a sigh and dismounted his horse, leaving the reins to the young stable boy. After doing that, he headed towards the little group, now it was Athos who was training with the young boy, which actually surprised Trèville. When he reached the table where Aramis and Porthos were leaning against, he gave them a look and then motioned for the two men dueling in front of them, “Who is he?”

Aramis and Porthos exchanged a look, Porthos tried to explain, “Well…” but was at loss of words, so Aramis stepped in, “Well, let me think. He arrived here wanting to kill Athos for having murdered his father, got interrupted by you arresting Athos, then he helped us clear Athos’s name and then he somehow ended up staying with us.”

That headache was suddenly worsening.

“You said he helped you while you were trying to get Athos’s name cleared?”, Trèville asked.

Aramis nodded in response, “And he was quite good at it, I must add.” Porthos conveyed his agreement through a vigorous nod of his head.

There was silence for a while, Trèville studying d’Artagnan and the way he dueled with Athos. The boy wasn’t half bad, he was keeping up with Athos, barely, but he was; Athos was after all the Musketeers’ best sword. When Aramis thought he was about to tell them to get rid of the Gascon, the Captain nodded and started heading up the stars, towards his office, “Well, at least he’ll be an useful addition.” Not like that damn cat, he thought, keeping the last part for himself.

It was then that Aramis turned towards him and yelled, “So we can keep him?”

Like he said, _bloody children._

Trèville rolled his eyes in exasperation and slammed his office door behind his back, still hearing his men’s laughter. He stopped for a second, hoping the boy wouldn’t bring more trouble than he already had in his hands. Then he heard a loud voice, Athos’s one, yelling,

“D’Artagnan! Aramis! For heaven’s sake! Stop acting like imbeciles and give back Porthos his hat!”

Trèville started banging his head against the desk.


End file.
